


my documents!!!

by Doitsuki



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drabble, Fingering, M/M, angbang, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6147060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitsuki/pseuds/Doitsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i just wanted to write melkor stickin fingers up Mairon's bum take what you will</p>
            </blockquote>





	my documents!!!

**Author's Note:**

> its pretty bad ngl

Mairon finds himself in his lover’s arms yet again, with piles of work screaming across the hall. He eyes his desk with its numerous reports and squirms to escape from Melkor’s grip. The Dark Lord only holds him tighter, bare arms scarred and strong.

“Where must you go?” Melkor asks, purring into his Maia’s ear. He must bend to do this as Mairon is quite small, wriggling around in his lap.

“Naught but a few paces! Do you not see my duties left unattended? I will be unable to sleep if it remains incomplete!” Mairon begins to whine, tossing his head back and forth. His hair swishes about as do the violent flames flickering in nearby braziers. “Let me work, my Lord. You may hold me all you like when I am done.”

“Mm… your voice cracks with strain, my bright little one. Look at you. You’re stressed.” Running his lips along the top of Mairon’s ear, Melkor coos to him as if to soothe overly wound nerves. Mairon twitches and shoots Melkor the best side-eye glare he can.

“Goodness, I wonder why?” Once more he gestures with his chin to the reports on his desk. “If you would tear your eyes from me a moment and LOOK OVER THERE…Nh!” A squeaky gasp falls from his lips to join the even breaths of his lover. Melkor has removed the gold and mithril inlaid cuffs by the tip of Mairon’s delicate, sensitive left ear and now suckles the point wetly. Sensation trickles down Mairon’s spine to coil in his stomach, heat spreading to flush his pale skin.

“Ai, not… not now…!” All that is logical points for Mairon to escape but he has long since accepted how he _hungers_ for Melkor’s touch. No amount of elf-meat and torture play can sate this gnawing abyss, ever reaching for the Dark Lord’s perversion.

“What shall we do today, hm? Melkor dismisses Mairon’s complaints as they are false, known to him by exploration of the Maia’s open mind. Mairon whines out of hatred for procrastination, but Melkor knows what he wants. What they both want. Or at least, what he craves at every waking hour.

Mairon scrunches the black and wine-red silk of his sorceror’s robes, imbued with all sorts of dark powers. His long golden nails nearly rip holes in the thin material from the tightness of his grip. “We will do nothing until my... work is done! What are you doing?! I…” Melkor’s hand slips beneath his robes, through the slit that starts at his navel and opens into the two halves of the garment by his thighs.

“You are not wearing pants today, my precious…” Laving up and down the back of Mairon’s ear with his long, pointed tongue Melkor chuckles softly in honest amusement. “I daresay you have waited for this.”

Indeed, Mairon’s lower body is completely bare and not even garters or stockings grace his supple legs. He whimpers when Melkor squeezes his thighs, so soft and spread they are… thumbs dare to creep inward and the flesh there is hotter than the pits of Utumno… so hot that Mairon glows. He cranes his neck to hide his face but Melkor sees all and tugs him back, teeth gripping a lock of his thick golden hair.

“Now, now… you know I adore your expressions. Do not hide from me. Let me love you.”

“You’re… so embarrassing…” Mairon groans and obeys reluctantly, showing his face to Melkor with furrowed brows and finely done winged eyeliner.

“Oh, very nice…” Melkor licks Mairon’s cheek then kisses him at the corner of his mouth. “Surely there is a reason you look so lovely today. You taunt me, do you know that?”

“I don’t… know what you’re… talking about…!” Each word Mairon punctuates with a heavy breath as Melkor’s fingers quest further into his heat. Between his legs is the glorious mingling of hard and soft, the first Melkor fondles with an easy touch.

“You rise now… perfect.” Melkor pulls Mairon then into a kiss, caring little for the awkward angle of his own neck and adjusting his lover’s body for better access. Mairon is so damned _flexible_ that he moves like lava down the side of Thangorodrim just to get a taste of Melkor’s lips. Clashing and salty there is memory of blood, the touch of tooth and bone. Mairon’s tiny fangs nip at Melkor’s tongue in annoyed little increments. And when Mairon gets bitey, Grond responds.

A wide hand trails around from holding Mairon’s right thigh to turning him to face Melkor, palming one plush buttock beneath smooth robes. Melkor pulls and gropes, massaging his Maia’s soft flesh and feeling the bounce of dat ass. It ripples like water depending on how hard he smacks it and when he does, Mairon yelps. He does not protest however and Melkor smiles. Already, the path deeper in is slick, wanting. A single questing finger probes and Mairon presses his face into Melkor’s shoulder, legs spread in the Dark Lord’s lap. His hardened length pokes Melkor in the stomach and is left unattended for now.

“Disrobe.” Melkor commands, “And we shall play.”

Off goes the silken mass of clothing and Mairon is left nude, not a single thing upon his body to hide it from Melkor’s gaze. Trembling, he pushes back against Melkor’s thick finger. His furrowed brows barely disguise impatient eyes glaring into the corner of the room. _‘How did we get here…?’_

Melkor wastes little time in pushing the first joint of his index finger into Mairon’s slick channel, marveling at how _tight_ he is. Mairon has never taken Melkor’s entire force before but neither has he been this difficult to enter!

“Where have you been sitting to tighten up so?” Melkor mutters, watching his Maia wince. Mairon does not respond and only flexes his buttocks, encouraging Melkor deeper. Once an entire finger has gone in, Melkor finds Mairon gushing inside with hot, wet enthusiasm. He peeps into his lover’s mind to see memories of hidden wants, of debauchery at public meetings and stolen gazes coupled with telekinectic touches. An idea strikes him and without further ado he spins Mairon around, making him face the open throneroom door. Mairon has the view of both guards standing with faces turned away and his work-piled desk. Melkor buries his face in his Maia’s hair and smirks. Mairon has to push his stomach and chest out in order to aim his ass backwards for Melkor, and appears absolutely wanton. Melkor begins to finger him none too delicately in circular, pressured motions. Already Mairon has begun to relax and runs his hands along his own thighs, the cold armrests of the throne pressing into his legs from the sides. Melkor’s arousal pokes up between his legs, the exact length of his arm and free of any constraints (the Dark Lord wears crotchless breeches!). He thinks to grab onto it and grind backwards but Melkor must pleasure him further to receive such sinful treatment. Mairon has barely decided on his stubborn desires when Melkor touches something inside him and he cries out against his will.

“Ai…….” He groans afterwards, head falling to nearly touch his chest. “Do… that again…”

Melkor presses in _right there_ and stabs it at high speed, adoring the litany of whimpers that spill from Mairon’s lips.

“M…My Lord… Melkor… aahnh~!” Mairon can hardly _breathe_ for how good it feels and pants open-mouthed with his hair covering his face. “Yes, there…”

Melkor begins a repetitive stroking over the soaked, creamy insides of his beloved Maia and every time he goes up for more Mairon opens further for him. Soon he fits another finger in there and has more heat to rub at, taking time to lavish wet kisses upon Mairon’s neck where he can reach.

“Very good…” he murmurs, marking Mairon with his sharp teeth. The depth of his voice takes on a richer, lust-drenched tone. “Mm, I shall loosen you up nicely. Then perhaps I will pound you into your desk and teach you who you _really_ work for, eh?”

“Ooohhn…” Rocking back into Melkor’s fingers Mairon tries to look at his unfinished reports but rolls his eyes back into his head, arching his body. Grond presses up into his own dangly bits and _oh_ , it’s intense. “F-fuck me then, my Lord. Please…”

“Begging now, are we?” Melkor shakes his head and adds a third finger, by now having shoved the thickness of a wine bottle into Mairon’s dripping ass. “Hmhm… since you ask so sweetly…” In a single motion he leaps from his throne and throws Mairon across the room, where the Maia flops onto the desk like a burning straw man. Hair aflame and eyes bright with desire, Mairon wiggles his soft, buttery ass.

“All… yours…”

Melkor lines up his giant hammer with Mairon’s hotter-than-Fëanor’s-forges entrance and pushes the tip against it. Mairon cries out, throwing his head back and scrambling to hold onto the edge of the desk as it stretches him. His lower belly pushes out the further Melkor goes in and he struggles to rearrange his internal organs to accommodate his lover’s length. Thicker at the base, Melkor pushes only halfway in before Mairon starts to quiver with pain. Despite his asshole resembling a waterfall, Mairon’s muscles are not pure elastic and haven’t the time to widen larger than his handspan. Melkor works with it however and pulls back, thrusting in hard enough to shake the entire desk. Papers fall to the floor and Mairon watches them, knowing most will be unreadable by the time Melkor is done. His own pointed cock curls with need, brushing against the desk along with his cushioned thighs. Above the pain however is Melkor holding him down, bracing himself with another hand on the desk. And then the pounding begins.

 

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**Author's Note:**

> 30 mins.


End file.
